Bittersweet
by SkippingSteppingStones
Summary: In the wake of Bespin, Vader took the liberty of comforting his son, and attempting to convince them both that things can be seamlessly sealed between them, and in a desperate final attempt to remain true to himself, Luke attempts to cast him away.
1. Bittersweet

His droid beeping in casual disinterest, Luke sat down on his bed, watching the whirling astromech with an expression of slight bemusement on his face. When the droid finally slowed down and ran gently into the bed, Luke reached out with a small smile to pat the droid's dome.

"Why don't you find Threepio, and go down to maintenance? He's still complaining about your work reassembling him," Luke suggested.

Artoo gave a loud, exasperated whistle, and bumped affectionately into Luke's leg again, before heading out the door, and shooting off to find his robotic friend.

Using the Force to close the door after the droid, Luke finally allowed himself to deflate, letting out a sad sigh, as he looked down at his raised hand.

_Fake, _he thought automatically, lowering it again, and looking at it, pulling at his fingers absently, and feeling the odd disconnect from how real tendons felt when artificially moved. Dropping his hand to his lap, he watched it slow in it's functioning at his lack of need of it.

Feeling strange still at the sight of it, he closed his eyes, feeling a bit sick. It was taking… a lot of getting used to. He'd never thought about losing limbs in his fight against the Empire. Dying, sure, but he'd always assumed he'd heal, or be dead. He hadn't been prepared for this.

As his thoughts turned to darker things, he felt a gentle motion in the Force, easing his discomfort, quietly, almost surreptitiously soothing him.

"I know it's you, Father," he said aloud, "There's no point trying to pretend I can just stop being freaked out by this in a heartbeat."

In response to the exasperated words, he felt the presence strengthen, a reluctant smile filling his sense of his father. In spite of himself, Luke gave a slight smile as well, before Vader answered, his thoughts coming from across the galaxy, _"I don't wish to alarm you."_

Luke gave a slight sound of disbelief, "Really? You think being comforted would startle me?"

"_It does,"_ Vader answered, _"Don't pretend you think I can't sense you in return."_

Luke rolled his eyes, folding his arms, although the sensation of the prosthetic's slight difference from real flesh made his skin crawl somewhat. Closing his eyes, and leaning back into his pillow, Luke felt the strange sensation of his father sending him another memory, and when he opened his eyes, he found a woman barely older than himself in his arms, and his father's now-familiar curly hair hanging in his face. As the solidified memory gently squeezed the woman, he felt a slight movement in her belly, and she gave a laugh, swatting at him playfully, "Not so tight!" she teased, "You'll scare our son!"

Feeling a slight touch of his father on his mind, Luke watched the memory slip away, his mother's smile the last thing to fade as his father's inquiry of approval became a bit more insistent.

"I _know_," Luke answered, allowing frustration to creep into his voice, "You and Mom were really in love."

At his words, he felt his father withdraw somewhat back into his own long-held stony persona, _"You should have known her."_

"I know," Luke agreed, carefully keeping his voice level, "You've told me all this before. I should have known Mom, and we should be off somewhere peaceful, living out your happily ever after."

At his continued irreverent word choice, he felt Vader bristle, and he began to withdraw himself, although he couldn't help wishing to stay in his father's protection still.

"_She would have loved you,"_ Vader's tone came flat through their connection, slipping deeper towards it's brutal, monstrous way, and farther from the brief peeks of humanity Luke half hoped for, and half feared.

"I know!" he insisted again, fighting not to reach out for his father, and reassure him that everything was fine between them. Because nothing could ever be fine between them, he realized. Their conversations, the constant game of cat and mouse, where Vader lead him onwards with memories of his mother, and of a happier time, when Luke could feel the love in his parents' embrace, their excitement at bringing a child into the galaxy…

He wanted to believe his father did it to reassure him, but somehow he couldn't help feeling that his father was disappointed in him. As though each embrace, each 'I love you' was asking why Luke was unable to throw away the past, and his own beliefs to embrace his father, and fill that space for him once again.

And in the fact that there were no memories of a newborn in his arms… there was the cruel question, intended or not. _Why did I lose her for you to live, and get nothing in return?_

"Maybe it's because life isn't perfect," Luke muttered in response to his own thoughts, and Vader's awareness prickled once more.

"_Son?"_

"Maybe you're stuck with me because life isn't perfect!" Luke said again, feeling his hands start to shake in anger, "Maybe THAT'S why I'm stuck with YOU! Why _I_ lived, and not my mother!"

At the words, he felt a reeling of horror, fury sweeping through the Force, seeming intent on tearing into his heart as he struggled to close himself off from the pain of finally letting go.

"You keep showing me these memories! It's like you're telling me, 'Look, I cared for you once, isn't it time you reciprocate?' You show me better times, times before _I_ could ruin everything, as if they make up for what you're doing now!"

"_Luke,"_ the Sith answered sharply, and Luke felt his father reign in his anger, gripping gently at Luke's presence, as if trying to stabilize him.

"No!" Luke retorted, tearing himself away as he felt his father attempting to give him another sickly bittersweet memory, "You can't patch it with who you were then! You can't tell me that our relationship can be fine, just because you and Mom were happy then! Because who you are now… it's not someone I can love. Not someone who _deserves_ love! I don't owe you ANYTHING!"

Furiously withdrawing from his father, feeling their bond stretching thin, tension crackling in it, Luke finally spat out, "You're trying to make me love someone who doesn't exist."

Squeezing his eyes shut in pain, he slashed through their bond, feeling the frayed end of the connection fluttering in a breeze that he knew didn't exist. Feeling and seeing the imagery all too strongly, he shuddered, feeling shock begin to set in.

It was strange…

He was free of his father's touch on his mind…

The touch that was no doubt cancerous.

But he felt hollow. Empty.

In the course of a few short days, his father's presence had become a steady ground for him. A reminder that there was someone he could lean on, in the empty abyss of his life. Yearning for someone to take comfort in once more, he felt another spike of fury jab his heart as he realized how Vader had slipped through the chinks in the armour around his heart.

He had invaded the hole left by the loss of Han. In pure selfishness, Vader had taken Luke's friend, to make space for himself to squeeze through the protection Luke had tried to find in the recesses of his own soul.

"Sleemo," Luke muttered to himself, trying to tie off the severed lifeline as he slowly stood, looking around his small room, "You enjoy the luxury you've stolen for yourself, and take joy in killing people, like you do… but don't you _dare_ try to pull me down with you."

"You've left me on my own until now. I've learned to stand by myself," he finished, the words giving him a new straw to grasp at as he fought not to sigh, and shatter the illusion for himself once more.

Reaching instinctively for the Jedi's lost 'sabre, he felt his false fingers grasp at nothing as he headed out of his quarters, the presence of others forcing him to hold himself together.

He had cast aside his last hope to ever be satisfactory simply by being himself, he thought. Only a family could have been expected to love him simply for being Luke, and he had just pushed the last of his away.

A member of Rogue Squadron offered him a wave, hurrying past in the opposite direction, and Luke quickly tacked on a smile, waving back as he hurried his steps, heading down towards maintenance, to take comfort and shelter in fixing up his droids, as well as whatever other repairs might be required.

HIs destiny was on hold, at least for the moment, as he learned the way around his new hand, but that didn't mean he wouldn't help the Alliance.

It wasn't _just_ a duty to him, he thought, looking around the bustling halls and rooms, it _was_ his home, even if it wasn't everything he wanted.

Kneeling down to start tidying up Artoo, he remembered the first time he'd worked on the droid, and gave the astromech a slight smile, murmuring to him, "Wasn't Aunt Beru always telling me we couldn't have everything?"

His droid gave a gentle beep in return, bumping at him again, and Luke felt a real smile form at the affectionate motion, "I'm fine," he assured his friend, patting him before returning to work.

"I guess I forgot what great friends I have," he said, reaching out in the Force once more to feel the many living, breathing presences of his fellows as he closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, before looking back into Artoo's 'eye'.

As the droid offered a gentle coo, Luke's hands took over maintenance from his brain, and he felt himself drifting away into the galaxy at large, feeling the struggles of each living being, the life forces of even the smallest flower or blade of grass.

Feeling at home in the familiar motions and full brightness of a galaxy of possibilities and lives, he heard the sounds of a great cosmic sound sweeping over him, as if the galaxy itself were an instrument, and its music facilitated by the souls that inhabited it.

Under every pain he felt, he sensed some joy, and in each cruelty, a soul struggling to find its way back to acceptance.

Lulled by the great immensity of the galaxy, his mind slipped back to Vader without his instruction, and in the great movement of comfort, he searched instinctively for the bright side to that particular soul's plight, and found hardly a bittersweet memory.


	2. Broken

Feeling the gentle constance of his son's presence, Vader swept through the _Executor_ in his usual silence, allowing merely his stature and breathing to intimidate those around him. He had little interest in it of late. Intimidation was easy in his position, and it was no longer a power he craved, to terrify those around him.

He had moved on to better things. Things that felt more real, and stronger than fear ever had to a man once known as the hero with none. He had found his way back to something more difficult than merely hurting, and more meaningful.

Cradled once more in the loving arms of the Force, he had found his son.

In the darkness that his life had descended into, he had found a ray of light, warm and gentle, a great relief from the cold of digging, and now he wanted nothing more than to stay in the pool of love forever.

Feeling a slight, uncomfortable prickling from his child, his lips moved slightly in silent comfort as he reached out to the boy with more of himself, knowing the strange confused pain of an amputation. Enveloping the young Jedi in warm love, he stepped into his quarters with a final dramatic billow of his cape, swirling into his hyperbaric chamber as the boy answered him.

"_I know it's you, Father,"_ Luke's voice echoed through the radiant strings that held the galaxy together, _"There's no point trying to pretend that I can just stop being freaked out by this in a heartbeat."_

At his son's playful reprimand, Vader gave a paternal smile, wrapping the arms of a dream around his son's presence, glad to be with him once more. It was more than he could have asked for, hearing his son's voice so innocent in tone and dictation. How the boy could still be so perfect, he had no idea.

In such a brutal galaxy, it was a victory to remain merely _human_.

"I don't wish to alarm you," he answered gently, pulling the boy's presence closer once more, to which he felt a slight pull in return of Luke refusing to be coddled.

"_Really? You think being comforted would startle me?"_

Knowing the dregs of fear that remained lodged in the cracks of their complicated history, Vader shook his head slightly, before slipping to the glowing network of the Force, enveloping Luke and his friends in silent comfort, "It does," he murmured to his son, "Don't pretend you think I can't sense you in return."

Smiling still more as Luke rolled his eyes in simple, pure exasperation, Vader took the boy's hand in his own, gently massaging the prosthetic, using the Force to finely tune it still more, bringing it ever closer to the hand he had taken in an awful moment of panic, opening the doors to layer upon layer of protection closed around his soul and the memories of the man he wanted to be for Luke once more, drawing his child into a memory of his beautiful wife, lying against him in a moment of pure joy and love.

Feeling his son's heartache at the image, he allowed it to slip into motion, his arms gently squeezing Padmé, who laughed, and reprimanded him, protective of their forming child. Meeting her ghostly eyes in love, he murmured to the memory, "You have nothing to worry about, Love. He's perfect… Just as you were."

Knowing how badly Luke needed to be told that he was loved, he sent a wordless question, asking if the memory of his mother's love was comforting to him. When Luke didn't immediately respond, he prodded at the boy's presence, concerned that he may have tried to remain in the memory, not wishing the boy to see what followed as Anakin received a summons to return to the Temple, and had to quickly get away from Padmé, only to have Obi-Wan greet him with an exasperated suggestion that he be more careful.

After all… he never wanted Luke to learn that he should have never been conceived.

"_I _know_,"_ Luke answered, and Vader felt an uncharacteristic prickle of annoyance from his son as the hand he'd been massaging was pulled away, _"You and Mom were really in love."_

Realizing their miscommunication, Vader shook his head. How in love they had been was immaterial, while he valued every moment's memory of his beloved. He had shown Luke his mother's concern and protectiveness, something the boy would sadly never know for himself.

"You should have known her."

"_I know,"_ Luke repeated, his tone carefully levelled, although Vader sensed something more in his soul. Resentment? No… Luke wasn't one to be resentful. He was the reincarnation of his mother, too kind and loving for that.

"_You've told me all this before. I should've known Mom and we should be off somewhere peaceful, living out your happily ever after," _Luke continued, and Vader cringed.

_His_ happily ever after? It wasn't for him that he so desperately wanted it, it never _had_ been. Everything he wanted, he wanted for his _family. _It wasn't his own desires that he wanted to further. He had given everything to keep those he loved safe and happy. It hadn't worked, and that failure had been crushing, but the fact remained that it wasn't his own happily ever after he had fought for.

Feeling his frustration start to bloom into anger, he hastily began to close himself once more, protecting Luke from his bared heart and soul as he struggled to keep his voice flat, "She would have loved you."

As he spoke the words, he found himself withdrawing from his gentle constance with his son, and he fought to pull back the tendrils of awareness with which he was touching the galaxy of people living the happy ending Luke deserved so much more.

_This is why you don't do this,_ he told himself, folding layer upon layer of cold metal over his heart, _This is why you stepped back._

"_I know!"_ Luke's mental voice stabbed through Vader's conscience, tone impatient and angry as Vader had never heard him in their short time together in soul. Feeling the barbs of Luke's fury, he withdrew still further, fearing the child in a way he had forgotten was possible.

Their closeness wasn't perfect by any means, but it _was_ something he wanted to hold onto, keep with him through the days which had ceased to be so painful and meaningless with his son's touch.

He desperately didn't want to lose it.

His son.

The family he had finally gained.

"_Maybe it's because life isn't perfect,"_ Luke's voice came suddenly, and Vader pulled himself back to the moment.

"Son?" he asked gently in trepidation. Fighting to be the person Luke needed, Vader opened himself a few layers of armour to let the boy closer to his heart, although he kept the burning coal away from him.

"_Maybe it's because life isn't perfect!"_ Luke snarled furiously, and Vader tried desperately to stabilize his son, comforting the boy with proximity. Or so he hoped.

"_Maybe THAT'S why I'm stuck with YOU! Why _I_ lived and not my mother!"_

At the hatred in his tone, Vader felt himself faltering once more, beginning to release his son, afraid to hear such angry passion in the voice he longed to speak only in love and comfort, safe in his father's protection.

_You can't do this,_ he thought, _You can't be who he needs. You've become a monster, unworthy of even hearing his voice._

"_You keep showing me these memories!"_ Luke raged at his father, _"It's like you're telling me, 'Look, I cared for you once, isn't it time you reciprocate?' You show me better times, times before _I_ could ruin everything as if they'll make up for what you're doing now!"_

Longing to be able to fix everything for his son, Vader closed him once more in as much comfort as he could, although he suspected it may have been somewhat frightening, as though he was trapping the boy, "Luke," he said firmly.

"_No!"_ Luke shouted, tearing himself away as Vader tried desperately to comfort him, managing to drag out another memory for his son's comfort, _"You can't patch it with who you were then! You can't tell me that our relationship can be fine, just because you and Mom were happy then! Because who you are now… it's not someone I can love."_

At the words, Vader felt his heart plummet, his only illusion of solid ground failing in a heartbeat. He… he had given Luke everything he still had, to draw him into such comfort as he could. He had done everything for the boy, he'd lied to the Emperor, he had lied to _himself_. Of course he could never be Anakin again. Never be a truly loving parent. He would always fail his beloved son.

"_Not someone who _deserves_ love!"_ Luke spat.

But no… of course he wasn't… Had he ever been? Why had Padmé loved him? He remembered asking if she was an angel… loving her for her kindness and warmth. But what had he ever offered her?

_You loved her_.

But he loved his son as well, and Luke didn't love him in return.

_You protected her_.

It had been his duty. He had been _assigned _to protect her. Of course he had protected her. He had only been doing his job, and she had _known _that. Hell, he had _failed_ in his mission, nearly getting her killed to further his own struggle to save his mother. His _failed_ struggle to save her.

_She loved you, isn't that enough?_

No. No, it wasn't. Because she was gone. She was gone, and the only remaining shard of her hated him.

And he had no reason that he shouldn't.

"_I don't owe you ANYTHING!"_ Luke yelled finally, and Vader felt him pull away violently, tearing away layers of armour and shards of his heart and soul.

"_You're trying to make me love someone who doesn't exist."_

The sudden tearing more than his weakened heart could take, Vader released him, watching in agony as the beautiful, glowing form of his son pulled back and sliced through their bond. Vader imagined he saw the boy look up at him with a stunned expression on his face, as though he couldn't quite believe what he'd done, and Vader turned away, wishing he could close the bleeding tears in his heart_. _

"I'm sorry, Luke," he whispered, and he heard that his voice fall upon the deaf ears of the galaxy, unprotected and vulnerable as a child. As the human boy he had been when he had foolishly fathered his son.

Determinedly, he turned away from the torturous beauty, forcing himself to become angry, although the most fury he could generate was for himself.

He had failed his child in every imaginable way, abandoning him as a newborn, _killing_ his mother, the other that he should have been able to trust to take care of him. Of course, Luke _had _betrayed him in return, had gone to find shelter with the Jedi.

The medical staff who had helped to birth him should have returned the boy to him! It was his right to raise his child, and that right had been torn from him. And Obi-Wan… he had killed the man for his crimes, but the death of the old Jedi could never bring back the years he had stolen from Vader.

Feeling righteous fury bubbling in his scalded throat, he stemmed the constant flow of painkillers into his veins. Feeling the agony of his injuries racing through him once more, he clenched his fists, sharp metal digits cutting through even the thick leather.

Perhaps Luke DIDN'T owe him anything, but the same was true of him. He owed Luke nothing he wouldn't have been happy to give. Had he not reached out to the boy after their disastrous meeting at Bespin, despite that he would have rather shut the memories of the incident out? He _had_ attempted to return to Luke. He had held out his hand, his comfort to the boy, and Luke had spurned him.

His eyes opening sharply, he lurched awkwardly to his feet, hampered by the burning pain in his damaged tissue. It wouldn't slow him down now, as it never had before. His son didn't love him, insisted that he _couldn't_, and Vader threw the last of his desire to _be_ loved to the wind.

Realizing what he was doing, he faltered for a short moment, thinking of the sensation of his wife lying contentedly against him, before the question came once more, _Why did she love you?_

_I don't know_, he answered himself, _I'm a monster. Unloveable. Undeserving._

Lingering on the bittersweet memory for another moment, he felt a gentle touch against him, and snapped down on it. This. This was his chance.

Stumbling back to his chair, he verified that the presence was indeed his son, and threw his dark presence into the galaxy once more, ensnaring the far reach of the Jedi's awareness, cutting him off, severing the suddenly frightened and confused soul from it's body, pulling the essence of the young Skywalker away from the galaxy, trapping him tightly.

Opening his eyes once more, he found the radiant form of the boy's life-force caged in a prison of the Sith's dark essence.

A predatory smile coming over his scarred face, he motioned for his mask to come down, never breaking eye contact with the trapped being of light, young face was contorted in fear.


End file.
